Page 25 of Heart Strain

Before I get out of the car, I say, “Maybe after a few days, we can introduce them to Peanut.”

“Does he like cats?”

“He’s really good with other animals.”

Jameson smiles. “It would be nice if they all got along. Peanut’s welcome at my house.”

“Thanks, Foxy. I’ll text you when I’m ready tomorrow, but it’ll probably be around eight-thirty. Are you okay with getting there at nine?” Visiting hours start then, and I already feel like I’ve been away too long.

“That’s fine with me; I’ll pick you up around eight-thirty. Thanks for all your help today.”

“I didn’t do anything, but I’m glad I got to come along.” I get out of the car and lean in. “See ya, Foxy.”

He grins. “See ya.”

He doesn’t pull away until I step inside.

The entire time I’m on my run with Peanut—who is actually quite great at running, three legs and all—all I can picture is Jameson’s sweet smile, those muscular arms, and that mothereffing mouth of his. I have to force the thoughts away so I don’t end up running with a boner swinging between my legs.

But when I go to bed with Peanut beside me, I can’t keep Jameson off my mind. Every time I close my eyes, his handsome face with those sexy lips appear, and I snap my eyes back open. I really need to stop lusting after my brother’s partner.

* * *

I walkout to Jameson’s car looking like a fucking zombie, but I still enjoy the view as he walks from my front door to the driver’s seat. He’s so fucking sexy, and the best part is that he doesn’t even realize it. Or at least he acts like he doesn’t know it.

We get into the car and I say, “How are you, Foxy?”

He smiles. “Good. You?”

“Good. How are the cats?”

He pulls out of his driveway and onto the road, heading to the hospital. “They’re great. They slept in my bed.”

I chuckle. “I’m not surprised. Peanut sleeps in my bed, too.”

He laughs and launches into a story about Nala trying to sleep on his head, and it’s hard as hell to keep my eyes on the passing view instead of staring at his handsome face and the way his sexy body is curled up in his small car, but when he pulls into the drive thru of Dunkin Donuts, he asks, “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, just need more coffee.”

“Me too.” I nod, and can see him staring at me from the corner of my eye after he places our order, so I’m not surprised when he asks, “Did you sleep last night?”

“Not really.”

“You’re pale.”

“Ugh. Thanks for pointing it out, dickhead.” I’m over here admiring his hot-ass, and all he sees is my zombieism.

“I only meant that you seem off this morning. Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” He looks a little hurt because I snapped at him, so with a sigh, I say, “I’m just tired. I haven’t slept in my own bed in like weeks and I kinda hate being in that house by myself.”

“You don’t feel at home in the house you grew up in?”

I snort out a humorless laugh. “Uh, no. Definitely not.” I can tell he wants me to elaborate, but I ignore it as we pull up to the window, pay, and take our coffees.

After he passes mine to me, I don’t look at him for the rest of the drive. I can’t. If I do, I'll probably tell him things I don’t want anyone to know, I don’t want him to know and ruin this new friendship we have. If I do, everything I’ve been holding in since I’ve been here will come tumbling out, and I can’t let that happen. I put a lid on that specific can of worms a long time ago, and I never plan on opening it back up.

But when we get to Drix’s room, I almost wish I had told Jameson because seeing my brother still in a fucking coma is making me feel even more helpless than before.

And I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread… a very thin fucking thread.

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